When the word "Chosen One" came up, what would be the first thing- anything- that came up in your mind? Was it slaying a dragon? Or riding on magical brooms and defeating a noseless evil lord?

Because Evelyn was a Chosen One.

And she did none of those things.

There was, however, an event she came up with, in regards to her title.

She called it The Arcan Trial.

And she regretted not listing the term, in a cold, comfortable place and not under the Sun for the event.

The Sun shone bright with no clouds in sight to hide it, burning off the skin of anyone joining the trial. The beads on Evelyn's dress reflected the light, and sweat went down by her neck below the thick layer of honey hair flowing down her back.

Frostville was a small town, and it was usually cold and chilly all year round- hence, the name. The trial was held at the open field, in front of the Leaders House Council.

Time had passed quite slowly with only half of the event ,consisting of praising The Chosen One and someone giving a speech about how grateful they were for the event. When the chief she chose for the trial- a comely young man- announced the turn for her speech, she gave out a low sigh.

It was fun, yes, for all the attention she got. Everyone would keep silent and focused entirely on her, and her words.

But not in this weather.

She cleared her throat, her dry mouth producing a smack sound as her mouth opened. "Welcome to this...trial and thank you for coming. No one in this world wants to be less than someone else, or anything, so, then, being a special Arcan is wrong because it isn't fair, and now I'll end my speech, thank you."

The words came out in a short breath, fast and direct. Scrunched eyebrows and frowns were clear on the audience's faces.

Oh, please! You can't expect me to deliver a one hour talk!

Her lips stretched to a confident smile. "Don't be troubled, dear citizens. I understand your frustration under the cruel Sun, and I have no wish to leave you all suffering any longer under it. The Chosen One understands."

The crowd erupted into cheers and smiles.

"All hail The Chosen One!" they chanted.

"The Chosen One! Evelyn Summers, The Chosen One!"

"She's kind and brave, and will save us all one day!"

They were like music in her ears, getting louder and clearer. Her smile widened, waiting for a while before putting a hand up. At the sight of her pale, manicured hand, everyone fell into silence.

This trial might not be so bad after all.

"Now bring me The Arcan!"

Three tall, bulky men among the people of Frostville marched forward. One of them bowed at her, the other two holding a thin-looking teenager by his arms, arms tied up behind his back. They pulled him forward by force, and he lifted his head to look at her. Evelyn frowned.

"Dorian?" she leaned forward, looking closely at him. "Dorian Clarke? Really, you?"

"We found him washing his feet by the stream, something normal- when we saw his Arcan Mark near his knee. It couldn't any other kind of mark, round and deep."

"Frostville citizens aren't allowed to have tattoos to avoid confusion," one of them spoke. "So we picked him up right there and then, and told the Chief about it."

"Look." One man bent down, and lifted up Dorian's pants to his left thigh. Clearly, as told, the Mark was carved at the right edge of his right knee. Round in shape, with patterns of crystal and gems. The word, Wraeccan, around it, part of his skin.

"You're an Arcan," she croaked. "You, of all people. I thought you're a friend, Dorian!"

"I am," he answered. "Look, this isn't something I can control or contain. Being an Arcan is not by choice."

"You can go to the labs of Westernly. They provide a service to get rid of Arcan abilities. Simple."

"You don't understand! They don't get rid of abilities, Eve-"

He fell to the ground, his face crashing hard. One man placed his knee on his back, and spat, "No Arcan deserves to say the name of The Chosen One."

"You know it's wrong, Dorian," she leaned back in what she could call a throne. "Arcans are monsters."

"Us? Monsters?" he tore his face from the ground, facing her with bloody lips that grinned. "We're not the monsters here. You are."

Evelyn was just a Chosen One with no special record of killing anything(except bugs, and those disgusting cockroaches). She had no special ability to destroy or destruct. Unlike the Arcans.

How was it possible for her to be the monster?

People only get defensive like this when they know they're guilty.

Dorian might be a friend, but he was an Arcan nonetheless.

Every Arcan shall be punished, for they are monsters that take away lives.
The general thing was mentioned, a million times in textbooks and laws. Whomever that created the Beware of the Arcans poem, he would've been rich and proud by now.

The Arcans do not belong,
And their lives should not be spared too long.

Little their numbers are, now,
But deadly all the same.

"I'm giving you this offer," she paused, peering down into his eyes. "We will bring you to Westernly to get rid of your Arcan qualities."

"No, thank you."

"Such politeness will not help you," she gave a small smile. "Lock him up in the dungeons with the other Arcans!"

"No," he grunted when they pulled him up to his feet, "Thank you."

"I told you, Dorian.Your thank you will not help to give you pity. But there's still the chance for you if you agree to go to Wester-"

"I told you, oh Chosen One!" he mocked, then smirked. "No, thank you."

He kicked his guards from their lower parts, and fought. He was swift and fast, out of their grasps within a minute in the speed of light, and with even a knife in his hand.

"He's an Arcan!" Evelyn stood up. "Don't let him get away! Or he'll destroy our lives like all Arcans do!"

"I don't destroy lives!" he rubbed the blade of the knife so fast against the binds, that his hands were barely visible. "Who even does that?"

"Get him!"

"Try me!" he threw away his binds, his hands free, and ran. His legs were only swirly, blurry motions, indicating his superior speed. The crowd went wild, chasing the Arcan down.

Evelyn pulled upon her glittery pink dress and walked away from her throne on her pair of high heels. If chaos ensued, she didn't want to get in the way. No trouble should fall upon The Chosen One, or who'd save them in the future?

That was when she felt a hand clasping her arm, and dragging her away. "If I'm running away, Evelyn, you're coming with me." Dorian was so fast, that one Evelyn's shoes fell off, her foot burning as it made friction with the ground.

Being The Chosen One was not equivalent to being ultimately badass. Being a Chosen One whose prophecy was merely some extensive lines of, you shall keep peace (and words that rhyme) she had no physical training. She could not fight against his steely grip.

"Help!" she screamed. "Your Chosen One needs help!"

"He's there!"

"Evelyn! Chosen One! Oh God, he have her!"
"Come back here and fight like a man, you treacherous Arcan!"

But no one could keep up with him, even if she tried to hold onto something.

Soon enough, he got out Frostville, ran for a couple of miles more until he reached some kind of forest and slammed her down.

She coughed and sat up, brushing away her messy hair, and looking down at her torn dress. "Look at what you've done! I look like a disaster!"

"That's the least of your worries, oh Chosen One," he knelt down beside her. "You have no idea what Arcans do when we're angry."

"Oh?" she frowned. "So you'll kill me and destroy my life? Well, go ahead!"

"I'm not heartless, and for the last time, who the hell destroys lives on purpose?"

She winced, shifting her position, and touching her dress. "Then what's your plan?"

"Since you offered me a chance, I'll tell you. I'm bringing you to a place full of Arcans. And they won't be happy when they know you imprisoned us."

"My chance is something positive. Your telling sure is million times more reassuring and comforting," she said dully. "Thank you for that."

"No problem." he pulled her up. "Get going, or I'll drag you again."

"Oh, on second thought, how about no?"

She took her remaining shoe, and before he could respond, smacked it on his head.

"Ah!" he stepped away."No, Evelyn, stop!"

"Go far as you want, Arcan," she scoffed. "They said I have a pretty good aim."

Evelyn threw the shoe, and her phone, which hit him right in the face, and blood came out of his nose. She ran away.

She couldn't be as fast as him, so she turned to hide in a bush- despite her own squirming mutters when she saw the bugs in it. She waited for the flash of Dorian to pass by, and quickly moved away. Not knowing the way home, she occasionally hid while walking to a random direction.

She had never heard of a forest a couple of miles near Frostville before. Perhaps it was a territory not placed upon the map. That thing is brown and outdated anyway.

She hoped to hear the voices of Frostville citizens, searching for her. Or just anyone at all that was not an Arcan.

Being alone was nothing to her-something she had to face every day-but being alone in an unknown forest, while being searched by a determined Arcan was something else.

***

A sigh came out of her when she saw a cave. Her bare feet stepped in, the damp air and scent of... bat feces traveling into her sensory smells.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust when she saw small clumps of black...things on the cave floor.

"Well, this is a surprise."

The honey-coloured haired girl turned around abruptly.

It wasn't Dorian, thank God, but two men she had never seen or met. They weren't particularly friendly-looking either.

Oh, great. What now?

"Dear, you're in our territory."

"Hello. This cave belongs to you two? It's very pretty, but the decorations are a bit dull with bat poops."

"Where'd you come from, sweetie?"

"I was just visiting, actually."

"Don't you recognize her, Dos?" one of them sneered. "The Chosen One of Frostville."

"You mean, that beautiful girl with fancy glittery pink things that trots like a supermodel with her nose up high, on the road with her ridiculously high heels?"

"Yeah, her."

"Looks similiar, yes," he nodded, gazing at her from head to toe. "Only, messier."

They know me.

She smiled.

"Yeah, well, that's a long story," she dismissed. "But, please, I need help here."

"Isn't she the one who continuously showed off, and gave us a damn long speech about equality or something? And attempted to get us in prison?"

"Yes, Dos," he sighed. "Yes. Now, what do you need help with?"

"You see, I was running away from this Arcan-"

"Giving you to him meaning giving up our pride. Right, Dos?"

"You're thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yes."

The way they looked at her was far from reassuring. She stepped back, accidentally getting a poo on her feet. Ew. Not now.

"You're not going to get away, lady."
"Not unless you show me the exit."

They advanced on her, and she knew one thing:

Crap.

All she remembered was them attacking her, and her trying to claw their faces with her long nails, before they knocked her in the head, and saw nothing but tunnel lights.